My Father’s Homeland

I yearn to visit my father’s homeland. (Kingston)
to have the people, family, blood
welcoming me with friendly, loving, caring hugs and hands.
To feel the wind
blowing gently against my skin.
For the very first time.
And get with the heart of the Jamaican rhyme.
To feel the strong cool wind
go through my hair.
Not even thinking about any of my cares.
As I look at the tropical trees,
Of this great, great Country.
Tears I begin to cry.
Because it took them both
eleven of my youthful years.
To let me in on Such a wonderful secret!
An exotic and honorable lie under wrap from me!
And when my time comes
To meet my other mother…
I will Kiss Her before
I walk upon her
Gracious grounds.
And love,
And cherish every beat
her heart may pound while I am there

About the author

Shirley Antoinette C.Grant